


A New Start

by Tasara_Morayne



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasara_Morayne/pseuds/Tasara_Morayne
Summary: Rating:  GSetting:  About 27 years before Episode ICategory:  DramaSummary:  Cassila finds a surprising new path to follow.Spoilers:  “The Rising Force” by Dave Wolverton, published by Scholastic, 1999
Kudos: 1





	A New Start

Cassila Sanar was taking her weekly thrashing again. The Jedi Masters called it lightsaber practice but the nearly thirteen year-old human called it a beating. She wasn’t bad with a lightsaber; it was just that she wasn’t one of the best. And right now, she was pitted, blindfold covering her dark green eyes, against one of the very best, a reptilian Trandoshan younger than herself named Garn.

Garn was deftly pushing his advantage and Cassila was almost keeping beyond the range of his practice saber. At the same time, she was barely keeping her footing on the artificially broken ground of the cavernous practice arena. The bout would end either when one of them was driven out of the defined fighting area, or when one of them made a strike that would be an obviously fatal blow. Too easily, Garn got past her defenses, his student’s saber bruising and burning with every blow, his superior skill obvious in contrast to her lacking talent. The dusty dry smell of her burnt tunic mixed with sharp ozone smell of the practice-strength sabers. Thank the Force this isn’t a real fight, she had thought more than once in the past weeks, months and years since she had realized her lack of weapons ability. If any of these practice bouts had been a real fight, with lightsabers at full strength, Cassila knew she’d have been dead long ago. 

From the bleachers that surrounded the thirty-meter round practice floor, Master Deva Porla watched with ancient gray eyes as the girl’s opponent began to corner her. She could see how his blows were beginning to hit more regularly, how the Trandoshan was tiring of holding back and wanted to finish the bout and defeat his opponent with a quick, decisive blow. She knew Garn did not have much regard for the girl’s lightsaber technique. Cassila, though, remained silent through the abuse. Through the Force, the old human could feel the calm within the girl, the flow of the Force as steady through her as the burning of a star. Even so, Deva understood that the pain of these wounds was nothing compared to the emotional hurt the short human girl suffered in this humiliating weekly reminder of her lagging skill with the Force through her saber. It also reminded all of Cassila’s classmates that she was not up to the highest levels, either. Deva glanced at the silent students seated around her on the bleachers and could see the open disgust and contempt in a few of the faces there. I see I need to give a lecture about respect again, she thought. She turned her attention back to the battle raging on the floor of the huge practice room.

Because of that sort of derision, Deva mused, watching the duel go further and further to the edge of the fighting space, I know Cassila has long ago given up the dream of ever becoming an apprentice to a Jedi Knight. She’s completely resigned herself to the idea of joining the Agricultural Corps when her natalday comes in a few weeks. Such a waste. She could be a great Jedi if she could just get a chance. Deva pursed her lips, wishing yet again she was in a position to take this kid on as a padawan. Hers is a strength in the Force that goes beyond ability with a lightsaber. It’s a strength that comes from a complete trust in the Force and its guidance. She looked again at the young ones around her. It’s so very admirable in one this young, and so heartening to a master who’s seen too many children trying to rely on their own wits, not yet fully accepting the Way of the Force. Rather like the boy she’s up against. Unfortunately, it just isn’t a quality that’s readily obvious, so the girl keeps getting overlooked for apprenticeship. I wish I knew what to do about it.

Out on the floor, Cassila was breathing hard, her tunic and shoulder length, auburn hair starting to get plastered flat to the skin beneath by sweat. Through the Force, she could feel Garn’s self-satisfied triumph as the battle neared its end against the edge of the fighting area, where, once she stepped or fell outside the boundary of the fighting area, the bout would be over and Garn again would have bested her. Her spirit also began to fail, frustrated by yet another loss. Then Cassila felt that familiar call of the Force as it gave her a suggestion; a way out of this impending defeat. With grimness, she realized it would be a serious infraction against what was supposed to be a pure lightsaber duel, but she was so tired of losing. Maybe this breach of etiquette would get her sent away from the Jedi Academy early but it felt right in the Force. So she decided to let it happen anyway. Through the Force, she picked up a block from the arena floor that was part of the uneven footing, and flew it at Garn.

“Yow!” Garn cried out in pain and surprise, as the block struck true against his scaly head. Cassila took advantage of the break in his concentration and used her saber in a flurry of quick moves. Her counter-attack was cut short though, when Deva’s voice called, “Halt!” Cassila froze where she was, panting and calmly expecting the worst. She did not even reach up to remove the blindfold, unlike Garn.

She heard Master Deva’s footsteps coming closer and felt the sweat trickling down her back as she stayed stock still, arms raised and her saber’s blade still glowing blue-green, over her head. Garn’s voice piped to the approaching master.

“She did an unauthorized attack,” he complained. “She’s not supposed to fly anything.”

“I know, Garn,” said Master Deva’s soft voice. “I think she’d had enough. Sometimes you have to know when to give mercy.”

Garn gave a petulant hiss between his small, pointed teeth and stalked off. Then Cassila felt Master Deva’s gnarled hand settle on her shoulder. “You realize I’m going to have to put you on report.”

Cassila finally relaxed and extinguished her lightsaber. She stood up straight and removed the blindfold. For a moment, the brightness hurt her eyes and she blinked against it. She looked to the floor as she quietly answered. “I know. It’s the lesser of two defeats.”

Deva felt the peace and honesty in the girl’s words and in her own heart the anguish for her. By the Light of the Force, the child is truly sincere, she thought. Now she’ll wind up with the Agricultural Corps and never get the chance she deserves. Then a possibility unexpectedly presented itself in her mind. What about…

“Cassila,” the old woman said, staying calm, “go to the infirmary. Ask for another human named Terryl Grant. We’ll talk more later.”

Cassila just nodded and left the arena, avoiding the looks of her fellow students that pursued her. She escaped into the halls and headed for her own small room, not wanting to go to the infirmary straight away.

In the solitude of the mostly empty halls, she took stock of her feelings and understood that she did not have any regrets about what she had done. I did the right thing, she told herself, no matter what the consequences. The Force dictated it and I did what it wanted. The Force is the only thing that’s ever wanted or cared about me anyway.

As she walked along the cool stone corridors, walls worn nearly smooth by the long generations of Jedi students, she came across a master and his apprentice. Their heads were bowed together, the master’s arm laid protectively around the student’s shoulders. They seemed to be deep in discussion, as if planning the final blow to some enemy of the Republic, or so Cassila fancied. As she passed them, they both broke up into laughter, the master patting the student heartily on the back. She looked over her shoulder and watched them turn a corner together, her eyes full of wistful longing. She’d always wanted that kind of feeling of belonging, a more intimate sense of home and roots, even if it was centered on a person and not a place.

I wish I’d been good enough to get a master, she thought, returning to her route with a heavy sigh. That on-on-one training is probably what I need to be good like the others. If only…. She let the thought trail off, all too sure of the impossibility of her ever being good enough to attract a master, especially at this late date. She let out another sigh that bordered on being a groan. “Face it, Cassila,” she quietly told herself as she arrived at her door, “no one wants you except the Force and it’s only going to give you what you need.” She remembered what the master who’d told her she was slated for the Agricultural Corps had said: “Be satisfied with your future. You’re going to a place where you’ll be needed.” She opened the door to her room and stepped in, closing it again behind her. She leaned her back against it and closed her eyes tightly, squeezing out matched tears. “But I’d rather be wanted.”

* * * *

Terryl Grant stood up from her last patient of the day, a toddling Devaronian who’d had an allergic reaction to something. By her Healer’s touch through the Force, the human had traced the cause to a bit of gaja fruit the child had eaten at midday. She handed the toddler back to its Xexto nurse, advising the simple solution to the problem. The Jedi caretaker gratefully took the child from her and left, bearing it back to the nursery from which they had come. Terryl smiled and turned to a sink to wash her hands.

She was one of the few Jedi Knights whose talents with the Force extended beyond the usual diplomatic and peacekeeping realm. Her master, Deva Porla had recognized this when she was a teenager and had broken off their regular training so Terryl could develop her extra ability with the healers at the Jedi Temple. From then on she had split her attentions between the two careers, equally intrigued by and proficient at both.

She dried her hands and ran them through her short, dark blond hair. It framed a face that was always ready to smile and looked most natural when it laughed. She quit her long day working in the Academy’s infirmary feeling quite satisfied, both with her day’s work and where her life lay at the moment. Two days before, her very first padawan had had his Knighting ceremony and the glow of that sweet moment was still with her. She had been so proud of Delian and his accomplishments, and to see him lose his padawan’s braid and ritually burn it, part of the rite of his passage into Knighthood, had been a crowning moment in her life. I still remember the scared teenager I was introduced to, she thought. His old master only a few weeks dead and him bravely trying to live through those fresh scars. He’d been a very unhappy kid. In those first few years he was quite a handful but see where he’s gotten now in his journey! She smiled broadly and almost laughed in joy as she closed her eyes and thought of the moment again. Her step was light in spite of her short, stocky build as she walked down the quiet, night-lit halls of the Jedi Temple toward the rooms she was currently occupying. She was still smiling as she opened the door. Then a voice calling her name from down the hall stopped her short, breaking her smile. She looked up to see Deva Porla coming toward her.

“Terryl,” Deva called again. “Did you meet her?” she asked in an excited voice, running the last few steps to come near, her age notwithstanding.

“Meet who, Master?”

“The human girl, nearly thirteen. Cassila Sanar.”

Terryl searched her memory. “No. There was no girl like that in the infirmary today.”

Concern crossed Deva’s wrinkled face. “I told her to come and ask for you. I want you to meet her.”

Terryl closed the door to her rooms again, feeling that she would not get to use them right away, despite her fatigue. “Who is she?” she asked.

“She’s going to be thirteen in about six weeks. Right now, she’s slated to head out for the Agricultural Corps. Where isn’t exactly decided yet. But I’d like to see her get one last chance before she goes. Would you mind?” Deva began leading Terryl back down the way she had come.

“Do you mean you want me to think about her as a possible padawan?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Terryl was a little taken aback. She hadn’t even thought about taking on a second padawan yet. “I don’t know, Master. Delian’s barely knighted. She glanced to Deva’s determined profile and knew better than to object further. “But I will look at the girl if you insist.”

“Oh, I do. Come on.” Deva quickened her pace and a somewhat flustered Terryl followed closely behind. “You’ve got to understand,” Deva went on, throwing her words over her shoulder until Terryl caught up. “I wouldn’t do this except that there’s something about this girl that I think has great potential. She’s not the best but it’s not often I see a child who’s as comfortable in the Force as this one is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take this afternoon. She was blindfold dueling as usual but she was losing. Like I said, she’s not the best and she was up against a very good student. Then I felt the Force suddenly peak in her and she flew a terrain block at the other boy.”

“That’s against etiquette,” Terryl said.

“She knew that. But I think the Force directed her to do it anyway. I think she wanted to win and it was the only way it was going to happen. There was no anger or fear in her when she did it. It had to have been the Force.”

Terryl considered. Most children who would have done such a thing would have been desperate to not lose; the accompanying fear and anger would have been obvious. That was not the case here, so Deva averred. Such surrender to the Will of the Force was something an older padawan could have trouble accepting, Terryl thought. Force knows Delian did not fully bow to it until a few short years ago. A mere child who bowed so readily would indeed be different. “You’re absolutely certain?” Terryl said.

“I know what I felt.” There was just the slightest hint of indignation in the master’s voice.

“I don’t doubt you, Master. It’s just that it’s only been two days since Delian’s knighting. I hadn’t thought yet about taking a new padawan.”

Deva stopped short and turned on Terryl, her face pleading. “Please think about this girl. I’d take her myself if I could.”

Terryl looked back into the face of her old master, seeing real concern there. Was this girl really so important to her? Is she really that different? If so, then, “Why hasn’t she been taken before?” she finished thinking out loud.

“Because it takes time to understand her strength.” Deva turned away and continued walking. Terryl noted they were going deeper into the Academy and wondered exactly where Deva was taking her. “She’s been slow developing,” Deva continued, “and she’s behind many of the other kids. She takes a regular drubbing at lightsaber practice yet she stays calm and collected, the flow of the Force as steady as a rock in her. None of the Knights and Masters coming around pay her much attention because she’s just that much behind.”

“What about the other Masters? Say Keef-ta or even Hoag Samith?” She spoke of current temporary members of the Jedi High Council.

“They know about it but they’re put off by her being so behind. I keep thinking she can overcome it with enough work.”

Terryl bit her lip as she considered what Deva proposed. It sounded like a gamble whether or not this girl could ever make Knighthood. Still, if the Force flowed in her the way Deva claimed, she could make an interesting padawan for several years, even if she never made her Knighthood. Terryl decided she would at least give her an open-minded look, if only for Deva’s sake.

* * * *

In her room, Cassila washed and tended to the wounds on her olive skin as she usually did. She then took a moment to look after the small garden she had growing in a large number of pots spread around her little space. She took extra trouble looking after the Arrican Violet that sat on its own little pedestal on her desk. They were tricky little plants in that they were hard to keep alive, let alone get them to bloom like this one had done for her, several times now. She adored their sweet, heady perfume and buried her nose in the tiny spray of fluorescent orange flowers. I do have a knack for plants, she thought, and I do love seeing them prosper. It makes me feel like maybe I’m not such a loss.

After putting up her watering bottle, she put on a clean tunic and pants and headed out the door, ice skates in hand, for the ice rink that hid in the lower levels of the Jedi Temple and Academy. All the young students were taught ice-skating as it promoted physical strength and balance. It also fostered a calm concentration, as being angry on the ice would usually just land a kid flat on their back, looking like an idiot.

Her various burns and bruises were still giving her minor pains as she arrived but Cassila put the hurt aside. She quickly slid the metal skate blades onto her boots and clamped them down. Stepping out onto the clean ice, she began gliding smoothly, using long low strokes to give her momentum. She rose up gently on one foot and turned herself backwards, as that direction was generally easier, and stayed that way for several turns around the rink. She had the place to herself and she reveled in the silent solitude, save for the whisper of her blades against the ice. She remembered that Deva had wanted her to go to the infirmary and find someone named Terryl Grant. She sighed, regretful she had not followed the master’s request but nowhere near regretful enough to go do it now.

I’ll get there soon enough, she thought. Right now, I just want to relax and do something I’m actually good at. She restrengthened the calm in her heart and turned again on one foot to face forward. She began practicing several graceful motions, enjoying the movement of her body and the Force through it. Her eyes were shut but she always knew exactly where she was, where her body was placed. She continued on this way, falling in and out of meditative states, alternately losing herself in the peace of the Force and the joy of her moving body as she meditated, and severely lecturing herself when she was not meditating.

Why am I so bad at everything? she began asking herself, as she came out of a meditative state and finding that no answer was readily available. I can never seem to catch up to where other people my age are. I’m just so stupid and slow with a lightsaber that I need to throw things to win a simple class match is proof enough that I’m no good. Maybe they’ll send me to the Agricultural Corps before my birthday arrives. Why postpone the inevitable? she thought with a final resignation. It’s the best I can ever expect or probably deserve.

There was just one thing that continued to bother her, though. As she had been skating, she had found it difficult to see her future as a farmer. Instead, there was something about a healer. She wondered if maybe her true talent was as a healer, which was odd since no one had ever said anything to her about going to the Healing Corp. True, it was one of the directions she could go other than the Agricultural Corps but that didn’t feel right, either. She couldn’t understand this new puzzle the Force had given her. She kept skating in the hope she could intuit what the Force was trying to tell her.

The hours slipped by and Cassila kept skating, meditating and self-lecturing. She became cold and she had to start making efforts through the Force to keep warm. She wished she had remembered to put on an undershirt or even bring a second tunic to act as a jacket, but she’d not thought of it in her rush to leave behind that last practice session. She remembered a few weeks ago seeing a tall human Knight that had sported long hair, part of it tied back in a string. She remembered admiring the bearded man’s appearance and wishing she, too, could grow her hair out like that. It’s got to be warmer than this stupid, cropped cut, she thought as she fought to keep from shivering. Soon, her entire body was begging for mercy, threatening to give out and land her hard on the ice. She ignored it, though, and made herself keep going, drawing on the Force and even thrusting aside her hunger when it grew. A few other kids came to practice and left again, but she stayed, skating on, enjoying the solitude.

Her eyes were closed, skating backwards to give her tired muscles a small rest, when she felt the arrival of two Masters. After a moment of searching through the Force, she was sure one of them was Deva Porla, but the other one was a mystery. She let go of the mystery, though, and returned to her meditative skating.

As they arrived, the gazes of both Masters landed on the lone figure on the ice. Terryl closed her blue-gray eyes and reached out to the girl circling out there and felt for what the girl was doing. She could feel the child’s determination to keep going despite the deep fatigue. She leaned over to Deva and whispered, “Why is she being so hard on herself?”

“It’s the way she is. She’s a lonely kid, not too many friends. She does eventually forgive herself, but not before she knows exactly what she’s forgiving. I don’t think she trusts herself too well.”

Terryl just nodded and went back to watching the skating figure. What was her name again? she thought. Oh, yes, Cassila. Cassila Sanar. Sounds Mendorinian. “Where’s she from?” she asked, leaning over and whispering again.

“Mendoraan. She’s the granddaughter of the Executive Trade Minister.”

Terryl frowned, watching carefully. She could feel the girl using the Force, trying to figure out something. What’s bothering her so? she asked herself and the answer came quickly. She’s in doubt about her future, is she? I wonder what she sees for herself….

“I’ve seen enough,” Terryl announced in a regular voice. Out on the ice, it startled Cassila into opening her eyes to see who was here watching her. Terryl felt the girl startle and did her best to distance herself from this potential padawan. She started to turn to go.

“Wait,” Deva commanded, then turned to the ice. “Cassila, come in here.” The girl immediately obeyed. Terryl watched her approach and as she came closer, her healer’s feelings sensed the pain in Cassila’s body and mind. There was the smart of burns and ache of bruises as well as the tiredness. What’s bothering her so? she thought again. When Cassila got close, Terryl ran her hands over the girl in a quick, cursory Force-exam of her body.

Cassila was surprised when the stranger began to move her hands over and around her, but then she realized this was a healer. Almost numbly, she remembered Deva’s request to go see a particular healer named Terryl Grant. Had Deva brought the healer to her? Was she in trouble again? Cassila decided to be patient and let the answers come to her.

“There’s nothing more here than fatigue and the results of a good practice saber beating.” Terryl looked to Deva. “She could probably heal it herself.”

“Is that all you think?” Deva asked. There was a tone to the question that implied much previous discussion and Cassila suddenly got the feeling there was a lot more going on here than she understood.

“I’ll want to see her fight, see exactly what the problems are. Perhaps the same person who did this to her.”

Cassila looked between the two Masters. What’s going on? she wondered, bewilderment starting to build. Who is this Master Healer?

“That could be easily arranged,” Deva answered. “Would tomorrow be too soon?”

“No, that would be perfect. She’ll not be recovered and it should allow for the same results.”

Cassila’s eyes locked on to Terryl’s. “Master, who are you?” she asked boldly without thinking.

Terryl could feel the confusion wanting to start in the girl’s mind. “I might be your master, child. But I need to learn a little more about you first.”

Then confusion broke out for real in Cassila’s head. She felt a rush of fear beginning to rise behind it as well. “Would you excuse me please?” she asked, then took off without really waiting for permission.

Oh, Force, what’s happening? she thought as she recklessly pulled off the skate blades from her boots to run back to her room. I’m not going to be a padawan. I’m supposed to go to the Agricultural Corps. That’s all I should look forward to! She fairly flew as she ran through the darkened halls, dimmed murals and displays of Jedi history flashing by. Her breath came in gasps past the growing lump in her throat. She arrived in her little space and threw down her skates. She settled on the bed, curled up and almost shivering. Hot tears began to sting her eyes. She let them come, hoping they might help to quell that hard lump.

“The healer I sensed in my future,” she said through her tears, “was it this Master? Oh, Force, why are you changing it on me?” She closed her eyes hard, squeezing out more moisture. “What path are you laying for me, now that I’ve accepted what I know? And why am I so afraid of anything different?”

Back at the rink, Terryl had watched the girl flee as if Sith Lords were chasing her. She’d felt the disturbance in the girl’s mind and heart as she had rushed out. It had surprised her so to see such a reaction. “Is she just tired?” Terryl asked Deva.

“I think she’s just surprised that anyone might want her,” said Deva. “She’s only here because her mother suddenly decided a little child, let alone a Force-sensitive one, was too much trouble. I think she’s always carried with her the memory of that abandonment.”

“How old was she when she came here?”

“Here? Four. She was in and out of the Temple on Mendoraan before that.”

Terryl sighed. “That’s awfully old. It would explain her lack of trust in herself. She comes with a lot of problems, doesn’t she?”

Deva looked into Terryl’s troubled face. “Don’t we all?” she asked simply.

Terryl’s expression relaxed and looked back into Deva’s hopeful one. “True. Just some of us make more baggage out of it than others.”

Deva nodded and the two Masters left the ice rink.

* * * *

All that night, Cassila meditated, wanting to know what was to become of her. Through the Force, only two destinies had traced their paths before her. One was the path she had come to expect while she had skated. Before her on that path lay plants, little adventure and a peaceful, contemplative life. It’s an honorable life, she told herself. It’s a life where it won’t matter that I’m bad with a lightsaber or anything else. Plants don’t care if no one else wants you. They just want to be nurtured and grow. All you have to do is let the Force flow and you’re a success. I can handle that.

On the other path was a healer, danger, a life full of jeopardy and risks, but not without its own sweet rewards. Cassila found herself both so desirous and so afraid of that second path. How can I trust myself to such a life of peril and know that the Light side of the Force will continue to guide me? To just train for such a life can be as perilous as living it. And what happens if I’m not good enough for that either, even with the one on one training? Still, like when she was young, she found herself lusting after it again, like some little child wanting to play pirates and peacekeepers. Worst of all, why did that life of adventure and excitement have to feel more right than the safer alternative?

The dawn found her feeling emotionally ragged and torn, her tunic sweaty and cold. As she stood up to change her clothes, she noticed her Arrican Violet was withering. My own pain is hurting the poor thing, she realized. I’ve got to let go of this and get a little sleep before breakfast and my classes. Then we’ll both do better. She closed her eyes and carefully calmed her mind. Her fatigue took over and in a twinkling, she was asleep. She awoke with a start a little later with barely enough time to get washed before getting some breakfast.

In the meal hall, Garn, followed by two of his friends, found her as she made her way alone to a table with her tray. The three of them stood in front of her, blocking her search for an empty chair in the crowded, noisy room. “I hear we’re matched up again this afternoon in a special bout,” he said in a voice that demanded an explanation from her.

“I imagine we are.” She gazed steadily at him with wide, tired eyes. “There’s a Master who wants to take a look at me.”

Garn pulled himself up, surprised. “You! Why you?” The Trandoshan boy glanced at his mates, a Rodian and a Bothan that Cassila recognized as Garn’s regular cronies. “A master ought to be looking at me instead. I’m the one who keeps winning almost all my bouts.” His friends nodded enthusiastically and one of them clapped him on the back.

“I don’t understand it either.” Please, leave me alone, she thought behind her words.

“Then I won’t hold back like I did yesterday. I’m going to make it hard for you. You’re going outside the ring just as quickly as I can put you there. This master needs to see just how bad you really are.”

Cassila felt the pain in her body anew, reminding her of what she had to look forward to. “Do what you feel is right, Garn,” she heard herself saying. “I’ll accept it either way.” She turned away from him and continued looking for a seat. A heartbeat later, she heard Garn’s indignant voice rise behind her.

“Did you hear that?” he said, and then changed his voice to a mocking falsetto. “‘Do what you feel is right, Garn,’” he said, sending his friends into peals of laughter. “Force, why don’t they just let her stay a farmer? I pity the Master crazy enough to take her on. Let’s go.” The three of them left the hall to further derisive comments and laughter.

I think I pity her as well, Cassila thought as she finally settled into a quiet place to eat her breakfast in solitude.

* * * *

Cassila drew on the Force all day to help her maintain her concentration. In classroom studies, she was in the higher ranks of students and was proud of her academic record, though even that had been slipping a little in the last several weeks. As the morning wore on, she began to notice an increasing number of looks from her fellow students; most curious, some indignant. At midday, she chose to skip eating and snatch another hour’s sleep. After her brief nap, she found nearly everyone was now expectantly glancing her way. By the time the appointed hour of the match came, nearly everyone knew what was going on. A large crowd headed for the practice arena to find out if the rumor was true; would Cassila, the quiet loner, already slated for the Agricultural Corps, really get herself a master? For many in the crowd, it would be a ray of hope in their own less than exemplary careers if she was successful. For the rest, her failure would be an affirmation of what they believed was the proper way things should be.

Garn arrived barely before Cassila, his two friends following, then peeling off for the crowded bleachers as he went straight to the arena floor. He quickly took up a practice saber, grinned maliciously at her, then turned away and began loosening up.

Cassila pulled her lightsaber off her belt, having picked it up just before coming. She made sure it was on a low strength and moved out to the center of the arena. She was all too aware of the packed crowd in the bleachers that over-flowed onto the floor, doing its best to stay off the fighting area. Why do they have to come? she thought, beginning to stretch. Why do they have to care what happens here today? Why should anyone care at all? As she did her best to loosen her stiff, tired muscles, she looked up into the assembly, feeling all their various hopes and contempts. Her eyes went to the Master’s row and her breath caught at what she saw; most of the Jedi High Council was there, including Yoda, Hoag Samith and Keef-ta. Amongst them sat Deva and Terryl Grant.

Force take it, what’s the Council doing here? Is this Terryl Grant so important? Cassila turned away from the crowd and consciously made herself breathe evenly. Then an odd suspicion crept into her mind. Or is it me? Oh, Force, what’s going on? Her fear of the future began returning and Cassila fought to strengthen herself and keep it at bay. Not now, she thought, closing her eyes and concentrating. I need the Force with me this time, as I’ve never needed it with me before. Force, tell me the right things to do to be good enough. I don’t want to have to go to the Agricultural Corp if that’s what’s wanted.

She felt the Force flow through her and the fear finally ran away to whatever dark corner it had come from. Resolved and calm, she opened her eyes and turned to face Garn.

Garn was ready for her. He bounced lightly from bare, scaly foot to foot, waiting for the blindfolds, then the signal to begin. Cassila heard Deva’s voice and a young student came out with the cloths for their eyes.

“Remember, this is a special match to see what you can do,” the messenger said. “Master Deva says do what you feel is necessary to win.”

The two combatants nodded, taking the blindfolds and placing them securely over their eyes. Then they returned to their ready stances. Cassila felt herself begin to shake with anticipation. A heartbeat later, a voice rang out. “Begin!”

The practice sabers ignited in unison and Garn leapt. Cassila expected that he would be faster and was out of the way by the time he landed. As promised, Garn drove in on her with everything he had. All too quickly, she was being battered with a brand new set of weals and burns as she scrambled for a defensive position. She was surprised by his increased speed and accuracy over yesterday. He really had been holding back, she realized. She was determined though, to at least put up a good defense. She cleared her mind of all her previous defeats and concentrated on the Light of the Force flowing through her and doing her best to follow its direction implicitly.

It was not enough, though. Skill had to be mixed in and as she was all too aware, hers was lacking. Garn pushed her backward over the broken surface, trapping her again against the boundary. She felt desperation starting to edge in around her concentration and she did her best to hold it off. However it was one too many things to keep track of and she tripped. She felt herself going down and the thought that the battle might be over this soon brought a strange calm to her mind. Then the Force surged through her like a storm wind and by the time she hit the floor, her saber had come up in time to block what would have been her opponent’s coup; a decisive blow that would have finished this fight as readily as one of them stepping outside the boundary. A split second later, Garn turned to defend himself from a block flying toward his head. In an instant, Cassila was back on her feet, pushing in on Garn, calm and unthinking, letting the Force guide her every move.

In the Master’s row, Terryl watched, letting herself feel for this child’s way. During the night, she had gone to Cassila’s room, pausing by her door and sensing for her. She had felt the confusion and fear raging within the lonely girl as she so desperately tried to understand what Destiny demanded of her. Terryl had been highly impressed by the child’s trust in the Force, and yet disturbed by the lack of trust in herself that the confusion had implied. Knowing what had gone on with Cassila in the night, she was fascinated by the calm the girl exhibited now. Only once had she felt something like fearful emotion trying to worm its way in. Then the Force had risen in Cassila like a mid-ocean wave, a block flew, and now she had the upper hand, the fear gone. If this child ever comes to trust herself the way she trusts the Force, Terryl thought, nothing could ever stop her. I could learn a lot from her. Tentatively, Terryl began to let the bare beginnings of a Master’s link start to grow and strengthen.

Garn was now drawing on everything he had to turn this duel back to his favor and Cassila could feel the effect of his renewed effort. Slowly, she began losing ground to him again. At least his saber’s not hitting me as much, she thought quickly. She pulled from the Force everything she could and managed to keep up a reasonably effective defense despite being moved backward. As she worked to block blow after cut, she began to feel like she was no longer alone in the arena. Something, or someone, was joining her in her fight. She felt along the lines of the Force and found a new presence with her. “Trust yourself as well as the Force,” it said. Surprised, her concentration disturbed, Garn’s offense suddenly cut through her defenses and again, she found herself falling to the floor. This time, though, her back landed against a pile of blocks so that she landed sitting instead of flat down. Swiftly renewing her concentration, she grabbed on to the Force again to keep up an effective defense. Before she really knew she had done it, a block again flew at Garn, knocking him in the knee and dropping one leg out from under him. In a flash, she was up and standing over her fallen adversary, point of her saber at his throat. Both students whipped off their blindfolds to the sounds of combined cheers and shouts of outrage from the crowd. Amazed at this outcome, Cassila looked up to the stands to see nearly everyone on their feet, expressing one opinion or another. She began to feel a thrill of victory, something she’d not felt in a long time.

Garn’s sharp voice cut into her growing good feeling. “You cheated,” he said, still breathing heavily. She turned back to him and found him glaring at her.

“Then why didn’t the masters stop us?” she said without thinking. Cassila felt his anger at being beaten. Could it be justified? Was it really cheating if they weren’t stopped? Her self-doubt kicked back in.

“Who knows? You still cheated and I didn’t.” He stood up tall and straight. “Good riddance to you in the Agricultural Corps.” Garn turned and headed quickly for the Master’s row to lodge his complaint. Cassila watched him go, despair edging into her heart. He’s right, she thought. I did cheat. My destiny must be as a farmer. I guess in winning, I’ve lost. Sorrow welling up in her heart, she hung her head and made herself follow Garn.

As she walked, she felt that presence again. Her eyes came up and immediately found Terryl watching her, smiling and applauding. It must have been Terryl that I heard just before the fight ended, she thought. Why is she smiling though? I cheated. I lost. Cassila dropped her gaze again and tried to shield out the feeling of Terryl’s presence.

As she got to the Master’s row, the crowd on the bleachers quieted, wanting to know what the judgement on Garn’s complaint would be. Cassila listened to the Trandoshan’s whining voice stoically, letting the Force keep her calm.

“This was supposed to be a fair match,” he said. “Etiquette says there’s no movement by the Force of objects against your opponent.” As he spoke, Cassila felt an odd edge to the boy’s voice.

“That’s true in class,” said Hoag Samith. “You didn’t realize this was a special match?”

“Yes, Master, I was told. But I don’t understand what difference that makes. Don’t the class rules of etiquette still stand so that we can approach each other fairly?” Cassila was beginning to feel there was something else in Garn’s complaint, something he was hiding.

“Do you think any opponent you meet beyond these walls will follow the same rules?” said Keef-ta, his monochromatic eyes hard on him.

“No, Master, of course not. But we’re still within these walls.” Cassila stole a glance at the Council members and understood by the Force that they already knew what she was just starting to feel about Garn. “She should follow the rules anyway!” Garn stabbed an accusing finger at Cassila.

“Upset are you,” said Yoda, in his peculiar pattern of speech. “Do, she can, what you cannot.”

Garn’s head snapped around to stare at the diminutive Master. Cassila felt a sting of guilt and regret pass through him, but he was not ready yet to admit defeat. “That’s why there’s the rules!”

The Council members stared at the Trandoshan boy, searching him out. Slowly, he began to realize that his complaint would not change anything. He had lost.

“Good you are with the saber,” Yoda finally said. “Better she is with the Force. Learn you should, as she has, to alter your surroundings.”

At those words, Garn looked like he’d been physically swatted. Cassila began to feel that maybe she’d won after all but she held her joy in check; it all could change in the blink of an eye. Oily Trandoshan tears began to fill Garn’s eyes and he turned away to leave through the crowd of students that had flowed down the bleachers and around the Master’s row, eager to know the outcome. A heartbeat later, the attendant High Council members shifted their attention to Cassila and she knew her patience was right. She cleared her mind and stood tall, making herself ready to accept whatever destiny was dealt her now.

“Long time have I watched you,” Yoda said, addressing Cassila. “Trust always the Force, you do. Your ally it is.” Yoda’s eyes focused tightly on her, squinting just a little. She left herself wide open to his scrutiny, all her shields set aside. “Trust yourself, you do not. Impair you, this can. No better you will become unless this fear you cast aside.”

Now it was Cassila’s turn to feel swatted. She visibly jerked and her eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, Master. I never recognized it as a fear.”

Yoda nodded, focusing once more on her. He grunted an acknowledgement as he saw the truth of her statement. “Corrupt you it would. Long years it would take but gone you would be, in time.” Cassila hung her head, staring at the floor and swallowing. “Master, what do I do then?” she said. “I’m going away in a few weeks.” She looked back to Yoda, her eyes desperate and pleading. “Who will I learn from? How can I change this path I’m on?” He smiled and looked up to someone at his side. She followed his gaze to Terryl.

“You can change it by coming with me, Padawan,” she said as the girl’s eyes settled on her. Cassila blinked in surprise and through the Force, she could feel Terryl’s pride radiating out to her like warm sunshine after too long a winter. “You did well,” the master was saying to her. “You did the right things and I’m accepting you as my Padawan Learner. But only if you’ll have me as Master."

A rush of whispered voices ran though the surrounding crowd, as the news of the Master’s acceptance rippled outward. Cassila did not hear them, though. She stood staring stupidly at the Jedi Master and Healer, stunned by the change of events. I’ve won, then? she thought. I’m wanted after all? Is it true? What do I say? How do I tell her I want her! She opened her mouth but nothing would come out. She closed it and opened it again, trying once more. Then another student, someone who hoped for a triumph like Cassila’s in his own life, nudged her hard and hissed in her ear, “Answer her or you’ll lose it!” Cassila swallowed and finally began to shake herself out of her astonishment. “Y…ye… yes,” she stuttered out. “Yes, please, I definitely accept you. Thank-you.” She bowed deeply to her new Master, still astounded that anyone would choose to honor her like this.

The last two words were drowned out by the growing applause from most of the students gathered around them. Cassila closed her eyes, letting the Force wash over her, seeing the future that had frightened her so the night before and finding she was now accepting of the difficulties and dangers it would present. Terryl felt the vision and feelings, the bond between them becoming stronger yet. She came forward and put her arm around her new student’s shoulders.

“We’ll face it together, Padawan,” she said, giving her a broad grin. “You’re with me now.”

Cassila reached back through her new bond to Terryl, finding the master’s fresh commitment to her. She felt the warmth of it and understood she was no longer alone in a homeless world. With Terryl as her ally, as well as the Force, she felt that perhaps she might even be able to trust even herself in time. Finally, relief washing over her, Cassila started to smile broadly herself, tears of joy starting to run. She gave her new master a huge hug, and then she began to cheer with the rest of the students around them.


End file.
